The Mighty
by Chameleon777
Summary: Hockey Academy AU inspired by 'The Mighty Ducks.' Starfleet Hockey Academy is the best hockey school in the world and though it lost its glorious past to ruthless enforcers, the future lies in one who has lost the belief in miracles and hope. It isn't until hope comes knocking that he sees the potential for a better future in a better place, even if it means facing the past again.
1. Death and Resurrection

The weathered arena was empty and cold of any passion that once flowed through the hallowed walls.

25 years had passed since the Kelvin's star player George Kirk had been killed in a hockey game by Nero and Ayel of the Romulan Enforcers and that was the day that hockey died in Riverside.

George had been the star player and temporary Captain of the team when the regular Captain, Richard Robau, had been hospitalized with an unknown illness that had eventually stopped his heart. George's wife had listened to the game by radio from the hospital where she had been giving birth to their youngest and his last words had been naming their newborn son James Tiberius Kirk.

The murder of such a prominent hockey player had caused an outrage in Riverside; the league had banned the Romulan Enforcers from ever setting foot in Riverside again, they had compensated Winona Kirk and her two sons for the death, and had sold the rink to an out of towner who remained anonymous, but had a growing interest in possibly using the arena for something else someday.

However, the arena had remained untouched for twenty five years and was now falling into such severe disrepair that the council was considering tearing it down and sending a check to the unknown owner to cover any outrage over destruction of the building. It was only a matter of time before they acted.

* * *

Unknown to the council, however, the arena's owner was sitting in the nearby Riverside Diner with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. Jonathan Archer wasn't what one would exactly call young, but he wasn't too old to come out to a small town and check on his sole piece of property.

"That coffee's going to kill you one day, Jon," a voice commented dryly. "Why are you out here?"

Jonathan looked up and smiled as he saw Christopher Pike, his friend and master hockey recruiter from San Francisco's Starfleet University and Hockey Academy, standing there in a jumpsuit that emblazoned the Academy's logo in every tasteful place, "Chris, what are you doing here?" he asked pleasantly.

"I've been doing some worldwide recruiting for the Academy and I've got a plane load of recruits to take back to San Francisco tomorrow," Chris explained, taking a seat in the booth. "They're all at the Townhouse Inn and have a curfew of 11 p.m. since the plane leaves at eight tomorrow morning."

Jonathan nodded, "I came out to check on that arena I bought after George died," he commented, frowning as he suddenly heard the revving of a motorbike engine outside. "What in the world?"

Chris frowned as the revving stopped and a few moments later, a blonde haired, extremely skinny young man came into the diner with faded jeans, boots, a t-shirt, and jacket covering his body. He strolled up to the counter and tapped on it with bruised fingers. Almost immediately, an elderly man appeared.

"Rodney, do you have my daily meals ready for me?" the young man asked in a quiet tone.

The elderly man nodded, "I just need to bag them up, Jimmy," he replied gently. "Have a seat."

Chris's eyes narrowed as Jimmy sat on a barstool and rested his arms on the counter, "You still living in that old building?" Rodney asked casually, unaware that Chris was listening. "Winter's coming fast."

"If I die from hypothermia, just bury me in some drift somewhere," Jim replied softly. "You think anyone cares if I live or die? Winona's off on another tour, Sam's AWOL, and Frank's shut up in prison."

Rodney nodded as he bagged several small items, "People would miss you," he replied patiently.

Jim shrugged and turned his attention to the napkin holder, "Whatever," he replied softly.

"Here's your food, Jimmy," Rodney said in an understanding voice, offering Jim a paper sack.

Jim nodded and took the sack, "Thanks, Rodney," he replied softly. "Hopefully this lasts a while."

"Take care of yourself, Jimmy," Rodney spoke, sighing as Jim silently left the safety of the diner.

Suddenly feeling very uneasy, Chris slid out of the booth and walked over to the counter, "Excuse me, I was wondering who that young man was?" he asked, thinking that the young man looked familiar.

"Oh, that was young James Kirk," Rodney replied calmly. "He comes in here every week or so when he earns enough from collecting bottles and gets himself a little something to eat. See, I'm one of the cheaper places in Riverside and he's kinda shy around people. At least the kid gets out and about."

Chris nodded, "Could you tell me where James lives, by chance?" he asked in a concerned voice.

Rodney gave Chris a suspicious look, but didn't say anything, "I used to play hockey in San Francisco with James's father when we were younger," Chris explained, recalling the many concussions that had eventually forced him to stop just as he had finished high school. "I'm now coaching out there."

"James lives in the old Kelvin arena," Rodney replied softly, suddenly ducking under the counter and coming up with a framed newspaper article in his worn hands. "See, a few years after George Kirk died, Jimmy's stepfather put a lot of money into putting a team together to try and repair the past, but he was a dictator more than a coach. They got a chance to get some glory back in a big game that would come with an athletics grant for the town if we won, but it all came down to Jimmy's penalty shot…"

Chris's eyes narrowed as he skimmed the article that featured a picture of a young boy kneeling on the ice clad in hockey gear with a saddened expression on his young face, "Nobody talks about it anymore because Frank almost killed Jimmy after the game that day," Rodney explained, unaware that Jonathan was now listening and horrified by what he was hearing. "Frank got life in the state penitentiary."

"And where are Winona and Sam?" Chris asked, wondering why Jim wasn't living with family.

Rodney shrugged, "Just so you know, Jimmy will probably stop at the bar on his way back to the arena cause that old building can get plenty cold at night and alcohol keeps him warm," he replied, turning away from Chris. "I don't like that he drinks and lives so horribly, but what can I do for him?"

Nodding, Chris silently wandered back to the booth, "Jon, why don't you go to one of those new-fangled fast food places near the newer part of town and pick up some burgers?" he asked as he took the keys to his car out of his pocket. "I'm going to drive by the Inn and the bar. Meet me out at the arena."

Even though Jon knew Chris wanted to check up on James, he nodded silently and sighed as Chris left the bar without a word. Jon was certainly not happy to hear that someone was living in the run-down property that he owned and planned to do away with, but he didn't know what to do about it.

* * *

Even though it was still early in the evening, the Riverside Bar was starting to fill up with Academy recruits who were bored sitting around the pool at the Townhouse Inn. James, who had brought his motorcycle to the bar after stashing the food in the small trunk on the back, was settled in at a corner table with a large mug of beer in hand. He was silently watching a young girl who had dark hair and lovely dark skin at the bar as she showed off the Academy recruit uniform she had gotten that day.

The woman's eyes, meanwhile, were on the many articles behind the counter that featured both George Kirk's team and the failure of the team that Frank tried to make several years later, "Those articles won't tell you anything interesting," James commented dryly, the beer from the mug spilling on the floor as he approached the woman from behind. "If you want to know about me, you should ask me myself."

"I'm not interested," the woman replied coolly as she turned and faced James. "Who are you?"

James grinned, beer accidentally spilling on the woman's pants and he unsteadily leaned forward to shake her hand in a cordial manner, "James Kirk," he replied, a slur to his voice. "And you are?"

"My name's Uhura and I'm a recruit for the Academy hockey team," Uhura replied calmly.

James frowned, "Hockey's such a waste of time since people's heads just get bashed in and blood ends up all over the ice while people make idiotic animal noises," he replied in a slurred voice, unaware that several larger recruits had overheard his comments and were now gathering behind him.

Uhura gasped as James was suddenly grabbed off his chair by one of the bigger recruits by his jacket collar, causing him to drop his beer mug on the floor, "Hendorff, cool it!" she shouted anxiously.

* * *

After ensuring that the car he had rented was securely in the parking space, Chris turned off the engine, removed the keys, and got out of the car. He was about to go inside when the doors flew open and three heavyset recruits tossed what looked like a battered person out on to the ground far below.

Almost immediately, the person crawled over to the bike and slowly hauled himself up on to the bike without so much as a whimper. As the bike revved up and took off down the road, Chris got back in his car and quickly started it, not hesitating to follow the bike down the road towards the old arena.

It didn't take long for Chris to arrive and by the time the car was in park and off, James and his bike had already disappeared inside the arena. Quickly getting the first aid kit and blanket he had put in the trunk after renting the car, Chris silently entered the old Kelvin arena through the busted open front door.

An eerie silence greeted Chris and followed him through the front area into the rink. In the rink, he saw one of the saddest things he had ever seen in his career; a makeshift home containing an old cot with mangy blankets and old pillows, a torn up couch, a busted TV, and a bag in the corner of the room.

"Who let you in here?" a suspicious, familiar voice suddenly asked as footsteps approached.

Chris turned and saw James standing there with blood covering his face and clothes and a wet rag in one hand while the bag of food was in the other, "I let myself in," he replied calmly. "Are you all right?"

"Dumb hockey jocks didn't like what I was saying," James replied drunkenly. "All I was doing was getting a little beer to warm my insides so I don't freeze in my sleep and they wanted to be muscle men."

Chris nodded and held up the first aid kit, "Mind if I clean some of that blood off your face?" he asked softly, wondering what he would find under the blood. "You could get an infection if I don't."

Shrugging, Jim walked into the rink area and sat on the torn up couch, casually setting the bag of food on the floor as Chris followed after him, "How'd you end up being thrown out of the bar, anyway?" Chris asked, sitting down on the couch next to Jim so he could open the kit and start cleaning Jim's face.

"I was having a drink and I met this girl named Uhura who was in some sort of spiffy looking uniform," Jim replied softly, the alcohol suddenly making him nauseous. "We talked and she mentioned that she was going to a hockey academy, so I told her that I think hockey's a joke and a nasty bloodsport."

Chris frowned, but didn't say anything, "Anyway, this guy named Hendorff grabbed me by the collar and he invited some guy named Finnegan to help beat some sense into me," Jim explained, wincing as he suddenly threw up all over the bag of food he had just bought. "I guess I can't handle much alcohol."

Before Chris could reply, his cell-phone vibrated and he fished it out of his pocket without hesitation, quickly pressing the TALK button as he lifted it to his ear. He was immediately hit with the angry voice of who he assumed was the bar owner upset about the fight and demanding that something be done.

"I assure you that I will personally deal with those involved in the fight and will ensure that damages are paid for," Chris promised sincerely, frowning as Jim slouched. "Send all cadets back to the Townhouse."

There was silence and then a click, "How long before the cops get here?" Jim asked unsteadily.

"I didn't call any cops," Chris replied, calmly getting out some alcohol wipes and gently, but firmly cleaning the blood off of Jim's battered face. "I'm not a doctor, Jim, but you might need stitches."

Jim sighed, but didn't argue, "Chris?" a voice suddenly filled the arena. "Chris, where are you?"

Jim's eyes widened with fear, "Don't worry, Jim, that's just a friend of mine," Chris stated, recognizing that Jim was getting ready to bolt and hide. "Jon, I'm in here with Jim and he's a little banged up."

Within seconds, Jonathan had come into the rink, "A little banged up, Chris?" he asked in an annoyed voice, horrified at the mess that was Jim Kirk's face. "Hello Jim, I'm Jonathan Archer."

"Y-You're the owner of the arena," Jim replied nervously, gazing up at Jon. "Am I in trouble?"

Jonathan shook his head and held up the bag he brought, "I brought you some supper," he replied, wincing as he saw the vomit on the floor. "You look like you need a doctor more, though."

"Doctors cost money," Jim replied in a tired voice. "Anyway, it's starting to get cold out there."

Chris sighed, "Jim, you're wasting your life and potential in this place with nobody to build you up," he replied, realizing how disgusted George would be if he saw what Jim was living in. "You could always come to the Academy in San Francisco and get a new start far away from all of this poverty."

"What, and get body-checked to death by psychotic enforcers?" Jim scoffed. "Thanks, but no."

Jonathan looked amused, but he merely passed the bag to Chris, "I can't force you to get medical attention, but I did bring along my mentor and personal physician to make sure I didn't get into any scrapes while I was out here," he commented gently. "He runs the Academy clinic in San Francisco."

"You brought Phlox with you?" Chris asked in a shocked voice. "I thought he didn't travel."

Jonathan shrugged, "I would offer to come, but I have to go over to the Townhouse and rip on a couple of recruits named Hendorff and Finnegan for instigating the fight," Chris replied in an irritated voice. "I also have to talk to the other recruits about proper behavior when it comes to public interactions."

"Or you could go with Jim and I could talk to the recruits since I do own the Academy and want to make sure that they know what we expect," Jonathan replied firmly, eager to rip into the supposed bullies and bust them down to size verbally before sending them to his precious Academy. "Chris, I insist on it."

Chris was silent for a moment and nodded before offering Jim a hand and closing the first aid kit, "I happen to have a room at the Townhouse Inn and it's room 345," Jonathan commented, watching as Chris carefully helped Jim off the couch. "Be sure to get his personal stuff before you leave here."

Before Chris or Jim, who was getting tired, could reply, Jonathan turned and silently left the arena.

* * *

Nearly half an hour later, James found himself sitting on the guest bed in Jonathan's room with Chris sitting at the nearby desk, silently watching him. Phlox, an elderly man who wanted to practice medicine until the day he died because it was his passion, also sat on the bed and hummed softly as he stitched and bandaged up the bad cut on James's forehead and bandaged the smaller cuts after cleaning them.

Despite prodding from both Chris and Phlox, however, Jim had refused to change his clothes or let his personal bag out of his hands, "I don't know why there's a school purely dedicated to playing hockey when there's a billion other careers out there," Jim muttered, sighing tiredly as Phlox wrapped an ace bandage around his forehead. "Why would anyone want to spend their life getting beaten up?"

"The Academy is a career training institution and students have the option of playing hockey and either taking it into the professional leagues or choosing another career," Chris replied calmly. "Academic degrees and opportunities to have tryouts with the top teams across the nation are offered there."

Jim shrugged and sighed, "Look, I need to go make sure Mister Archer isn't killing those recruits who beat you up," Chris continued, seeing that Jim was ready to sleep. "If you change your mind, the bus will be leaving the Inn at eight tomorrow morning for the airport. You're welcome to come as you are."

Before Jim could reply, Chris stood and walked over to him with the blanket from the trunk of his rental car, "Just get some rest tonight and maybe your mind will be clearer tomorrow," he replied calmly, carefully draping the blanket over the young man's thin shoulders. "Phlox, can I have a word?"

Jim quickly found himself alone and lying on the bed with the blanket around his shoulders and he noticed a small picture on the bedside table; it was of a younger Phlox standing with a team that included Jonathan Archer, Chris, and his father and they all looked incredibly happy to be there.

Thoughts of a making a better future for himself drifted through Jim's mind as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

What do you think?


	2. Walking Back To Yesterday

Ignoring the aching in his tired body, Jim sauntered out of the hotel room with his bag over one shoulder while Chris's blanket was tucked neatly under the other arm. He had woken up around six a.m. to find Phlox gone and a note from Chris wishing him luck in whatever path he chose to take with his life.

Carefully packing the picture in his bag, Jim covered himself with the blanket and left the safety of the hotel room with only the blanket and his bag. He could see rolling suitcases in the hallway as he walked towards the elevators that would lead him downstairs to the lobby and to his brand new future.

The night had been restful, but Jim had been thinking about Chris's and Jon's words while he slept and truth be told, being at the Academy would be better for him than living in a crappy arena. Jim sighed as he got into the elevator and travelled down to the lobby; he had nobody to care about but himself.

Jim's eyes widened slightly as the elevator doors slid open and he saw Chris sitting in the hotel dining room eating a bowl of cereal while a cup of juice sat on the table, "Hello there, James," Chris said calmly as Jim entered the small dining room. "If you're hungry, grab something from the continental breakfast."

"I was thinking about what you said," Jim replied groggily, gazing down at Chris. "Is the offer still open?"

Chris silently set his spoon back in the cereal bowl, "It is," he replied calmly. "You want breakfast?"

"I'm not feeling much like eating," Jim replied softly, slowly sitting down across the table from Chris because he suddenly felt a wave of lightheadedness. "I just want to wait down here for the bus."

Shaking his head, Chris promptly got up and walked over to the counter where the hotel's continental breakfast was set up. A few minutes later, he returned to the table and set a tray in front of Jim that contained a bottle of juice, a large muffin, an apple, and several napkins, a plate, and plastic cutlery.

"You eat all that before you get on the bus," Chris replied firmly as he sat back down. "I know your body isn't used to eating because you haven't had a lot of money for food, but the Academy will provide three meals a day and snacks whenever they are needed. There's time for you to eat everything slowly."

Swallowing hard, Jim nodded and hesitantly started eating the muffin, "When we get to San Francisco, I'm taking you to Phlox's clinic for your pre-admission exam," Chris stated firmly. "You're not physically all right, but I'm sure he can help you to get there. Anyway, he and Jon went back on an earlier flight."

Before Jim could reply, a few recruits, including Uhura, came wandering into the dining room and eyed Jim and Chris briefly before going over to the food. Jim didn't pay any attention to them, but Chris gave them all a look indicating that they had better behave themselves for the rest of the trip or else.

Only Uhura caught the look, but she nodded and made a mental note to apologize to Jim later.

* * *

_Swish, swish, swish, woooosh._

A look of satisfaction crossed Spock's normally stoic face as the puck flew into the empty net and clattered to the ice. Spock rested on his stick only a moment before skating towards the net.

As Spock stood at the net, gazing down at the puck, footsteps and gentle clapping suddenly broke the silence that filled the Starfleet Academy Hockey Arena, "Spock, you're getting so good," the tender voice of his mother said as he turned and saw her walk out on to the ice. "Your practicing is paying off."

"Mother, how did you know I was here?" Spock asked softly. "I did not leave a note at my dorm."

Amanda Grayson, who had been Spock's biggest supporter in his desire to join the Starfleet Hockey Academy, smiled, "You have spoken about nothing else since you were accepted here," she replied in a loving voice, her smile widening at the puck in the net. "Have you thought about your education?"

"I believe, since I already teach Advanced Mathematics as a way to fund my education, that I will be working on acquiring a Master's Degree from this institution since I am already in possession of a Bachelor's Degree," Spock replied thoughtfully. "I do not wish to rely on Father's money."

Amanda sighed, but nodded, "I hope you are not disappointed that I elected to come here instead of to the Vulcan Academy of Diplomacy," Spock stated. "Father is obviously disappointed in me."

"I will come to every game you play and I will support you however I can, Spock," Amanda promised, knowing that the rift between her husband and son would possibly never be made right. "When is your first game? I'll come and cheer you and your teammates on as loudly as you wish me to, darling."

Spock nodded, "I will have to check the schedule when Captain Pike returns from Riverside with the recruits and the recruits are divided up into teams," he replied calmly. "Thank you for supporting me."

"Spock, you will always have a supportive and proud mother no matter what you choose to do with your life," Amanda replied, carefully drawing Spock into her arms. "You are my pride and joy."

Nodding, Spock allowed himself to be held by his mother briefly before pulling back, "Now, I brought my skates with me today," Amanda commented. "If you'd like, we can skate together for a while."

"That would be satisfactory," Spock replied tonelessly, sighing as Amanda left the ice to get her skates.

* * *

By 7:55 a.m., the bus was crowded with recruits wearing the uniforms they received when they decided to sign up for the Starfleet Hockey Academy and a lot of them gave Jim, who had been given clean clothes by Chris, funny looks as he got on to the bus with his things and sat in the front seat alone.

For several seconds, Jim silently listened to the chatter and got a book out of his bag to read so that nobody would bother him, but he heard a grunt as he began to read. A few minutes later, Chris came out of the hotel lobby leading a well-built, unshaven man with dark hair towards the bus. The man wore a recruit uniform and carried a duffel while his eyes were tired. Jim looked at Chris warily.

"For the last time, McCoy, you're going to get on the plane with the rest of the recruits and that's the end of the discussion," Chris stated, following the man on to the bus. "Now, please, take a seat."

The man grunted, but took a seat next to Jim after stuffing his duffel in the overhead compartment, "I don't see why we have to FLY back to San Francisco," he grumbled. "Bus travel works just as well."

"Welcome to the first day of what I hope prepares you for the rest of your lives!" Chris announced, purposefully ignoring McCoy. "I expect better behavior on the journey back than was had last night."

Almost immediately, the bus went completely silent and satisfied, Chris took a seat in the front, across from where McCoy and Jim were sitting, "What are you staring at?" McCoy asked, gazing at Jim.

"You're kinda scruffy looking for a doctor," Jim replied, having seen a medical emblem on McCoy's jacket as the guy had been getting on the bus. "You've got a medical patch on your jacket."

McCoy raised his eyebrows, "Well, you look like you got the stuffing beat out of you," he replied, referring to the bandage around Jim's forehead. "What did you do? Get into a brawl last night?"

"Some guys beat me up," Jim replied, seeing Chris give him a look. "My name's Jim Kirk."

McCoy nodded, "Leonard McCoy, M.D.," he replied, unaware that the bus driver had boarded and that the bus was rolling away from the hotel. "How's a stick like you gonna play rough hockey?"

"If you're an M.D., why are you here?" Jim shot back, turning away so he could go back to sleep.

Even though Chris liked the silence, he sighed; it would be a long few years at the Academy for Jim.

* * *

By early evening, Chris had returned to the Academy and had immediately separated Jim from the other recruits so that there would be no trouble. While the other recruits got their Orientation packages, academic registration, and dorm assignments taken care of, he hustled Jim off to Phlox's clinic.

After a lot of gentle prodding, Chris had convinced Jim to change from his clothes into a medical gown and was shocked by how beaten up and thin the kid seemed to be, "I'll make sure your clothes pay a visit to the Academy laundry," Chris commented, watching Jim pace the room anxiously. "Phlox likes it when his patients either sit in a chair or on the exam bed. He has no intention of hurting you."

"I've never liked doctors," Jim commented nervously. "Even as a kid, I didn't like doctors."

Before Chris could reply, the door opened and Phlox came into the exam room wearing scrubs while Leonard, who was also in scrubs, pushed an instrument cart, "Hello James," Phlox stated cheerfully, smiling at Jim. "This is my new assistant, Doctor Leonard McCoy, a kinesiology major here."

"Sports medicine?" Jim asked, gazing at Leonard quizzically. "You came here for sports medicine?"

Leonard nodded and Jim silently sat down on the exam table, suddenly feeling anxious when Chris stood up to leave, "I'll get your uniform and a dorm assignment for you," Chris stated gently. "Relax, okay?"

Swallowing hard, Jim nodded and immediately lowered his head so that he didn't have to see Chris walk out, "Well, I can see right now that you'll need a special diet and exercise regimen to help you gain a few pounds so you meet the weight requirements for playing," Phlox commented calmly, looking over Jim's thin and bruised body before touching it. "Lucky for you, the season doesn't start til next month."

"Like I'm going to play hockey," Jim replied coldly. "My dad was killed in a hockey game."

Leonard raised an eyebrow and Phlox nodded, "I was there that day and I believe that the Romulan Enforcers were banned from ever playing in Iowa again, correct?" Phlox asked cheerfully.

"They're probably playing somewhere else," Jim replied with a shrug. "I don't really care."

Phlox inhaled softly, "Well, what are you going to do here if you don't play hockey?" he asked gently, carefully examining bruises around Jim's ribcage. "Doctor McCoy, get that portable x-ray machine in here, please. I'm thinking our patient has some injured ribs. Mister Kirk, if you'd please lie down."

Unnerved by Phlox's question, Jim laid back on the exam bed, "What could a skinny farmboy like me do at a place like this, anyway?" he asked in a casual voice. "I'm the son of a deceased hockey star and people are going to be bothering me to play hockey. I don't even know how to skate really well."

"Here's a lead vest," Leonard grunted, gently draping a lead vest over Jim's torso. "Lie still."

Swallowing hard, Jim silently stared up at the ceiling; determined not to be forced into anything.

* * *

"This is Archer Hall, the dorm for freshies," Leonard grunted as he stopped in front of a brick building that extended upwards several stories and waited for Jim, who was wearing a pair of oversized scrubs until he was able to get at his uniform, to make his way up the steps. "You doin' okay there, Jim?"

Jim nodded, "I'm a bit tired," he replied groggily, frowning as he saw what looked like Hendorff and Finnegan in orange uniforms doing groundskeeper work while being supervised by a tough looking man in an Academy uniform. "Bones, what are those goons who beat me up doing yard work for?"

"Bones?" Leonard asked in a confused voice. "Because I'm a kinesiology major? Seriously, Jim?"

Jim frowned, "Seriously, who is that guy and what's with the orange suits?" he asked softly.

"Cadets, don't you have some place to be?" the man in the uniform asked, having overheard them.

Leonard frowned as the man walked over to them, "Where are your uniforms?" the man asked sharply.

"I was working in the clinic with Doctor Phlox and this was the patient," Leonard replied curtly.

The man eyed Jim and Leonard for a moment and nodded, "I'm Richard Barnett, one of the professors at the Academy and I'm also on the team assignment board," he replied calmly. "What are your names?"

"Kirk, McCoy, what kept you?" a voice suddenly spoke as the doors opened. "Come over here."

Recognizing Captain Pike, Jim and Leonard walked over to the door and Jim immediately found himself being handed an envelope, "This is your registration packet, Kirk," Captain Pike explained in a professional voice, eyeing the battered young man up and down. "You're rooming with McCoy."

"Those idiots will wash out in the first semester!" Finnegan shouted as he raised the hose he was using to water the plants that resided in flowerbeds right against the building and sprayed a tload of water.

Used to dodging quick punches, Jim quickly moved out of the way and pulled Leonard with him, leaving Captain Pike to get doused, "HEY!" Professor Barnett shouted, a look of fury on his face. "ENOUGH!"

Their eyes wide in shock, Hendorff and Finnegan froze and Captain Pike quickly ushered Jim and Leonard into the building, "This is the common area," Captain Pike explained, gesturing to an area that was filled with vending machines, tables, chairs, and couches. "Each residence hall has a common room."

Jim nodded, but didn't say anything, "Curfew is 2100 hours during the week and 2300 on the weekends," Captain Pike continued as he walked towards the elevator. "Undergraduate cadets aren't allowed off campus during the week unless it's sanctioned by the school, but weekends are free."

"Right," Jim replied in a tired voice, his eyes straining to read the signs near the elevators.

Leonard frowned, "Why are you squinting?" he asked in a concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Bones," Jim replied tiredly, not wanting to admit that he was having trouble seeing things.

Captain Pike gestured to the long hallway that was just off the elevators, "I've assigned you two to a dorm on the first floor for this semester," he stated calmly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out two keycards. "These will grant you access to your dorm and all other buildings around campus."

"Thanks," Jim replied tiredly he took one of the keycards. "When do I test for what I want to do?"

Captain Pike turned and saw how tired Jim looked, "Look for an email from me in the morning," he replied calmly. "You and McCoy can use the rest of tonight to get settled. It's dorm 122, Jim."

"Thanks," Jim replied in a tired voice as he walked off down the hall without looking back.

Chris looked at Leonard, "Make sure the kid gets some rest," he replied calmly. "Goodnight."

Nodding, Leonard took the other keycard and walked off down the long hallway after Jim while Chris left Archer Hall. He couldn't help but smirk as he saw Barnett still reaming Hendorff and Finnegan out.

Just as Chris was going to return to his apartment for food, paperwork, and rest, he saw a public bus come up to the stop that was just off of campus. The door opened and Spock, who was wearing a dark coat over his clothes, came off the bus with a bag in his hands and a distressed facial expression.

"Captain Pike," Spock stated in a tired voice as he walked on to campus. "It is very late and I was not…"

Chris gave Spock a look, "I thought you were going to stay with your parents at the Embassy after you went skating with your mother?" he asked in a concerned voice. "You look like you have all your stuff."

"I stayed at the Embassy for a meal and conversation with my parents," Spock replied in a stiff voice, making it clear that he did not wish to discuss the argument that had taken place during the dinner that he had shared with his parents. "There was a discussion that resulted in my return to campus."

Chris nodded, "Since you're the RA of Archer Hall, I thought you'd like to know that a couple new cadets named Kirk and McCoy moved in tonight," he replied calmly. "McCoy's a kinesiology major and Kirk…"

"How very fascinating," Spock replied softly. "Captain, I am quite tired from the journey on the bus."

Chris nodded, "Spock, I get worried about you riding the bus through the bad part of the city and the offer's open if you ever need a ride from the Embassy," he replied calmly. "Have a good night, okay?"

"Thank you," Spock replied in a formal voice, nodding before he walked off towards Archer Hall.

Chris sighed and as he walked back towards his apartment, the tune of 'Eye of the Tiger' suddenly emanated from the cell-phone he kept in his pocket. He silently got it out and saw he had a message.

_Captain Pike, I hope Spock got back to campus safely. I'll visit him again soon. – Amanda Grayson_

After sending a quick reply to Amanda that Spock did make it back safely, Chris silently walked back to the apartment building where all staff lived. He was relieved that it was quiet so he could think.

* * *

A loud knock prompted Leonard to bolt across the room from the small kitchenette area where a mini-fridge, sink, and microwave were for students who had no time to go to the Academy Culinary Plaza. He had been making himself a cup of tea to help himself sleep while Jim had immediately gone to bed.

"Can you please keep it down?" Leonard asked gruffly as he opened the door and saw Spock, who had stopped at his dorm and dropped off his bag, lingering outside the door. "Who the heck are you?"

Spock looked slightly amused, "I am Spock Grayson, the resident adviser of Archer Hall," he replied calmly, figuring that this gruff man was Cadet McCoy because of his Southern accent. "Where is…?"

"Kirk's sleeping," Leonard replied gruffly, cutting Spock off. "He's had a rough time getting here."

Spock nodded and sighed, "My room number is 130 if you have questions or issues that need addressing," he replied calmly. "If you are aware of curfew, I will be returning to my room."

Leonard frowned as Spock turned and walked off down the hallway, "Robot," he muttered under his breath and closed the door so Jim wouldn't wake up. "What a pencil-pushing little robot."

* * *

**_Kronos Educational Institution and Hockey Academy – Butte, Montana_**

A dark-skinned instructor glanced up from the paperwork on his desk just in time to see two young men, both of them in black hockey jerseys and attire, come into the small office that was next to the carefully maintained hockey arena. Ridge-like tattoos were in a vertical line down the man's aged forehead as both a symbol of power and a way to cover up scars from the accident during the game he had watched years ago as a boy; a game that had killed a very famous hockey star and tarnished a town forever.

"Nero, Ayel, I trust you are ready?" the man asked in a cold tone. "I expect you to impress me."

Nero and Ayel exchanged a look, "Where is George Kirk's old teammate; the old fool who tried desperately to save him even though it was too late?" Ayel asked gruffly. "I must see him."

There was a silence and then an older gentleman who greatly resembled Spock stepped into the room, "I am the Ambassador that was requested," the man stated. "Why have you brought me here?"

"You will allow us entry into the pool of teams who play against the San Francisco Hockey Academy during this upcoming season," Ayel replied coldly. "My Captain and I have a team of warriors ready and able to fight."

The man looked troubled, "I know you were helpless to save the love of hockey and the desire to play back East, but I assure you that our intention is to bring it back to life here," Ayel stated coldly.

"You, your Captain, and the Romulan team were banned from ever playing again in the United States because your actions on the ice led to George Kirk's death," the man replied gravely. "I cannot…"

Nero's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, "My Captain has taken a vow of silence since that day and will not speak again until we are permitted a chance to prove ourselves worthy of being allowed to return to the sport," Ayel stated in a dangerous voice. "Your refusal to allow us that would be unwise."

The man's eyes widened as Nero and Ayel left the office and went on to the ice where they were quickly joined by several other men in similar uniforms. As hockey sticks appeared in their hands, the older man let out a distressed sigh in realising that he was powerless to stop this while the other man grinned wildly, having scored a victory. There was no way the Enforcers could be stopped from playing again now.

* * *

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